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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691985">copper and salt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmads/pseuds/stellarmads'>stellarmads</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions of Illness, M/M, Major Illness, Not Canon Compliant, Seizures, Undead, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:34:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,063</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmads/pseuds/stellarmads</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"...blood tasted like a mouthful of copper and salt, and for the first time Jonah understood the appeal of carnal desires"</p><p>Jonah is enamored with Jon at first sight and can't bare to part with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives Fanfiction</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>copper and salt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello and here is another Jonelias fic to fuel my angst power trauma bond needs.  Enjoy, please comment if you have requests or suggestions!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jonah had met him only once before.  A young scholar, wide eyes that swallowed the entire room with a thirsty gaze. At the time, Jonah could have passed over him, his mind not even stopping to take note of the young man.  Back before he weighed consequences as much, back before the simplest turn of your head, an aversion of gaze, was to be held with careful consideration. </p><p>It had been a passing statement coming from Jon that had stopped him. </p><p>“Yes, but theoretically perhaps one's fear could manifest with such emotional energy that it translates into something physical.” </p><p>An interesting enough proposition, provoking Jonah’s gaze to turn back to him.  A more attentive glance and Jonah could see high cheekbones, a curly mess of graying black hair, and a striking set of dark eyes.  They seemed to engulf Jonah’s entire existence and for a moment all that Jonah knew was this beautiful stranger in front of him. </p><p>Then, like a candle being spat out in the rain, a name was called from behind Jonah. </p><p>“Jon!”  </p><p> </p><p>In the most agonizing seconds of Jonah’s life, he watched the beautiful scholar named Jon stride past him. </p><p> </p><p>It would be seven years later that Jonah would stumble across him again.  A bitterly cold day, he had found himself at a local hospital, searching for answers from a man he was sure was already dead. This didn’t stop the corpse from letting the secrets spill across its tongue. Truths its executioner had tried to force into a grave. </p><p>Concepts such as these had long since stopped phasing Jonah.  He had found the simple solution to mortality ten years prior. Aged thirty five human years and desperate to fight against the flow of time, he had begun his search for the answer of eternal youth. It is no secret that the key to the world and its many secrets, is wealth. </p><p>It had been as simple as slipping an envelope across the table, watching pale fingers pull it back towards a young woman.  She had smiled, and asked where he would like to be kissed.  For a thrilling moment, Jonah realized the weight of his next action, before slipping his blouse down over his shoulder. </p><p>Her blood tasted like a mouthful of copper and salt, and for the first time Jonah understood the appeal of carnal desires. And then the world had slipped to black, his mortality and conscious fading both at once. </p><p>And so when the dead man told him of a writing as old as time itself, he believed the mottled, bloated face and its rattling words.</p><p>The decision to pause by an open window had been only for the fresh air, Jonah’s senses still swimming in decay.  The breeze shifted, pulling air from the room behind him, and a sweet, sickly heat crept over him.  The scent of fever. That should have been it.  Jonah should have wrinkled his nose, turned, and fled that place of rot. Instead, a cracked and bruised voice croaked out for a nurse.  Jonah took a step forward. And another.  For reasons he could not possibly explain in that moment, he found himself in the doorway. The odor of warmth and sweat fog his awareness.</p><p>He was still a beautiful thing. Cheekbones now flushed in a warm pink, a speckled throat that struggles to swallow as a haunted face turns towards his. Jonah knew from the eyes though.  Wide and wild, like a doe frozen in place. Jon observes Jonah with no comment and Jonah has seen this case often enough to understand what’s ailing the poor man. The scent of typhoid is stifling now, and Jonah turns for a moment, automatically running the tap, wetting a cloth he finds beside the bed.  </p><p>Jon stares up at him in confusion and appreciation as Jonah gently dabs at his sweaty forehead. A shaking hand coming up to touch Jonah’s face.  He should automatically flinch away from the diseased man, but instead he finds himself making a soft noise of understanding. Jon’s eyes flutter, rolling into the back of his head and his entire body seizes for a painfully long moment.  It ends with a low, pained moan from Jon. </p><p>Jonah does not understand the emotion coursing through his veins. He can sense death overcoming this man, and the sheer panic that floods his body freezes him in place.  The thought of a world where he will never see Jon, striking and wide eyed, puts no doubt in his mind of the decision he is about to make.  </p><p>He leans closer, feels the painful scorch radiating from Jon.  “I can take away the pain. I can save you. You will see more of this world than you could have ever dreamed.” </p><p>He leans back, watches Jon’s addled mind process the words. There’s a slow nod, one that leaves Jon looking exhausted and even closer to death.</p><p>Jonah dabs the damp cloth against Jon’s face, drinking in his last moments of mortality.  Then, he gently pulls one of Jon’s wrists towards him, presses a soft kiss against the blue veins, still thrumming with life.  His other arm reaches forward, carefully leading Jon to his icy skin.  </p><p>“I will drink your mortality and you will drink my strength.” He murmurs, and then plunges his razor sharp teeth into Jon’s soft skin. </p><p>Copper and salt trickle from the corners of his mouth and he allows himself the pleasure of drinking such a sweet life.  His mind registers the sharp pinch of blunt teeth tearing through his flesh, feels a weak sucking.  He opens his eyes, catches sight of Jon, already looking stronger. A trembling hand reaches up, grasps Jonah’s wrist, holding it there against Jon’s ruby stained mouth. </p><p>Jonah lets him take more than he needs.  Even when he feels his own immortality struggle against the now persistent pull of blood, he allows Jon to take what he wants.  Watches Jon’s cheeks slowly drain, fever now retreating, no life left for the illness to attack.  Jonah’s wrist is freed and Jon’s head leans back, taking in the sensation of ice and relief. </p><p>In that moment, Jonah’s world blurs, twirls, recenters, and focuses.  Now beside him in his fantasies of reigning power, a pretty, graying man sits beside him. Both of them suspended on the throne, forever beautiful and young, as the world decays around them.</p>
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